Description

At will, a river flies like a conch shell Flowers bloom, rain falls, poetry floats, Whenever I want a cloud approaches, shadows me, I can clearly see the lover's face in the play of light and shadow on the wall. I still dream of breaking the shackles of civil society The deer stopped at the sight of the ruined forest, When the young girl sleeps in the morning on the chest of young leaves- I whisper to the wind I get tired of arguing with imaginary birds. May I not find life in your city of scorched earth, Where there was a river, there are brick hills! A day out from this city's festival of colorful lights If a dam is broken on the night of Purnima, remember I will surely return to the wild world created by God.